The Traitor
by vague-as-fog
Summary: She's the smartest witch out there, and she seems to be the only one that can save him from disaster. And the only one to hide him from his old life. [HermioneDraco and maybe some HermioneSnape to mess things up D]
1. The Beginning

**The Traitor**

A pale hand gripped the boy's shirt, a gasping man begged with him. "You can't look after me," he wheezed. "You know it. I know it. I'm being killed by my own curse." The man's black hair was greasier than normal, sweat dibbled off of his chin. He shivered with fever.

The boy gave him a stern look. "I'm _trying_. I just... Don't know what I should be doing! It's too complicated, I don't know any healing spells," he spat, pushing his too long blonde hair back behind his ears. "The Dark Lord doesn't exactly encourage learning how to revive someone. All he wants us to do is kill, kill, kill."

"He may not teach you anything useful, but he is still a powerful man. Do not speak about him with such blatant rudeness. He will hear it in the depths of his withered soul, find us, and kill us."

The boy sighed. "I know..." He regarded the man with worry. "You aren't going to get better unless I bring her are you? She's the only one smart enough, she's the only one that will understand..."

"I'm afraid so. But more important than nursing me back to health, she will find a way to get you back into school. You need to finish your last year at Hogwarts, even as someone different, in a different house. For all the pain, turmoil, _war_. You will be needed. You know where you should be now."

The man shook as a gust of icy air briefly gusted through the cave. He strained a smile at the younger boy, he was almost a man now. It was amazing how much he had grown up in the past weeks. And not even because neither of them had the chance to shave. The boy nodded in agreement.

"But how? She'll never listen to me. We hate each other, and always have."

"She's a compassionate person. With a little bit of understanding, she will help. I know it. Your a smart boy, Draco. You'll figure it out."

* * *

"Hermione, we'll be gone for a week. All our contact numbers are on the fridge, try not to leave the house unless its absolutely necessary." 

Her parents wheeled their suitcases out the door, each stopping to press a kiss against her forehead before proceeding down the drive. "I'll be fine. I promise. You guys have a nice time in France," Hermione smiled at them as her dad frowned.

"I've seen those movies 'Mione. No parties. No drugs. No alcohol. _Definitely_ no boys. Got it?" he said sternly, looking her straight in the eye.

"Dad, I promise. It'll just be a week alone. Me and Crookshanks. Harry and Ron won't even come around. I need a break too."

Hermione's parents smiled at her, then each other. "We trust you, be safe." And they were gone. Slamming the car door shut, driving down the street. She sighed, sliding down the wall with her knees tucked in tight.

An orange ball of fur crawled under her legs, Crookshanks pushed his head between her knees. "Looks like it's just the two of us Crookshanks. And those rules go for you too. No parties. No drugs. No alcohol. _Definitely _no boys. Or girls. Whatever floats your boat kitty-cat."

She smiled as her cat purred softly. Rising to her feet, and into the living room, Hermione collapsed on the couch, turned on the television. It was blurred with news of new terrorist attacks, so called bombings. Rolling her eyes, she flicked channels.

These Voldemort issues were serious, but at home... She just couldn't bring herself to be serious about them. She took them as bombings and terrorists, but it was so much more than that. Only, her parents were so clueless and careless, she couldn't suddenly bring all of this on them. It would frighten them, and loose her independence. That was what she feared the most. Because now she was seventeen, she could use her magic whenever, wherever, she could protect her family. She had the power, and she had the guts.

There was a distinct pop from outside the window, her heart started to race. Somebody had just apparated outside her house...

* * *

_This is one of the shortest chapters I've ever written, but it's kinda just an introduction to the story. Setting the scene and all that jazz._


	2. The Story

Hermione felt her heart beat faster, there was the distinct noise of someone trudging up the gravel pathway to her front door. If it was an intruder, surely there would've been more people. Or they would've been moving faster at least. This just sounded like a leisurely stroll in the park.

But just to be safe, she slipped her wand out of her pocket, and lifted up the curtain to take a sneak peek out the window. Whoever was out there was jumpy, cloaked and hooded. There was something familiar about the way this person walked, Hermione just couldn't put her finger on it. It was almost as if she knew this person, or someone related to them.

The dark attire that this sinister stranger had made her think _Death Eater_. Only, Death Eaters came in packs, they were far too cowardly to do a job single-handedly. But she didn't trust this person to be one of the good guys either. And it scared her.

Hermione stood by her door, grateful of the tinted glass on either side of the frame, hiding from view but seeing everything. She saw a limp in the strangers gait, and a stumble now and again, she considered running out to help the poor person, but they still could be dangerous.

Closer and closer the stranger came, until he was right at her door. Normally the lights switched on automatically when someone moved out there, but strangely enough, they didn't. Hermione's breath caught in her through, fear clogged her thinking, there were two sharp raps on the door.

She had two options. Open the door to see who it was, or ignore the person and hope they thought no one was home.

Hermione almost screamed. She would've preferred to go with the latter, only she had left her television on.

She stood bravely, readying her wand, going through in her mind all the spells, curses and charms she knew that could hurt or disarm someone. Her palms were sweating and her grip was too tight on her wand. A hand reached up to the handle and she turned it slowly.

Pulling it open, Hermione said, "Whoever you are, don't make a move, don't make a sound until I tell you. I have my wand, I will kill you if need be." Pointing her wand right at where the strangers chest would be, she raised her chin defiantly. She told him.

Against her strenuous wishes, this stranger raised his hands to his face. "I'm just taking my hood down," he muttered, because the stranger was definitely a he with a voice like that.

Hermione nodded at him, letting him do it. But as his hood fell around his neck, she regretted ever opening the door.

Because despite the darkness, there was no way she could've missed the white blonde hair, unfortunately long and bedraggled, but never-the-less glowing in the moonlight. Hermione's voice caught in her throat, and she thought of as many spells as she could, but nothing came out. He stood there, calm and quiet, head hanging while she over-came her shock.

She wanted to scream and yell for the authorities, for someone to come and save her and arrest this pathetic excuse for a man. Except something inside her said that he was not here to hurt her, or capture her. There was a look of helplessness in his downcast eyes, and his trademark Malfoy smirk was missing too. Hermione felt she should pity him, but the thought made her sicker than he already did.

Hermione choked and stumbled on words at the back of her throat, mumbling incoherently at Draco. He looked up with begging eyes, not teasingly so, but just a pure look of utter despair written all over his face, engraved in the lines of dirt that marred his cheeks, forehead and chin. She had never seen him look so forlorn and dirty before.

"Please," Draco pleaded, falling to his knees. "I need your help."

So badly did Hermione want to be angry with him, to frighten him in his already weak state, make him feel the fear he had thrust upon others. There was nothing there to be angry with though, she had barely threatened him and he was on his knees. Sadness surged through her bones, the war had finally taken a toll on the great Draco Malfoy.

"B-But you're a traitor, you assisted a mass attack on Hogwarts, threatened to kill Dumbledore, and ran away with the man who murdered him!" Hermione cried softly, a tear dribbling down her cheek at the mention of the deceased headmaster.

"I know!" he replied weakly, "But if you give me the chance to explain! I don't have my wand with me, I came unarmed, and no one else is with me. Please, I'm desperate."

That hit her soft spot. Desperation made her turn to jelly and agree with anything. You can fake a lot of things well. But it's hard to fake desperation. And in his eyes, that was what she saw.

Hermione sighed, and scanned his crumpled form. He couldn't be faking, Draco Malfoy couldn't fake genuine anything. It just... Wasn't possible for the cold-hearted bastard she had known for the past six years.

Standing aside from the door, with her head she motioned for him to go inside. "In. But you don't get anything until you explain to me why your here."

Heaving himself off of the ground, Draco gave her a thankful look. He limped inside, and Hermione watched as he walked. It didn't look like he had eaten properly in weeks, or bathed in that long.

He waited in the hall for Hermione to shut and lock the door, to him the house smelled clean, floral almost. It soothed him, and Draco found himself taking deep breaths of the clean, fresh air.

Hermione steered him towards the kitchen, and sat him on a dining chair. He had tracked dirt through the hall and through the kitchen, but that was understandable, considering it didn't look like he'd been living in the best of places for a while. She sat opposite to him, complete uncomfortable in this situation, still gripping her wand tightly and aiming it inconspicuously at her unwelcome visitor.

"Talk," she said abruptly, startling out of the trance Draco seemed to have been in while looking around the kitchen.

He nodded gravely, and began to talk softly and fast. "I won't lie to you, I helped plan the attack on Hogwarts, I was obligated to. The Dark Lord promised that if I killed Dumbledore, he would give me back my father, and release me of all Death Eater duties until I was ready to uphold them for real. At the time, I thought it was a good idea, I wanted my father back, I didn't want to be a disgrace to my family. Mother couldn't even look at me without crying, she was afraid of what I'd done. She was afraid of him, or father, and or everything that might happen if I went through with it.

"I planned it so well, I thought everything would be perfect. But then Professor Snape took me aside and said that I shouldn't do it, that the Dark Lord wouldn't get my father out of Azkaban or free me of his wrath. The Dark Lord didn't believe I could actually kill Dumbledore, Snape told me so. I trust him above any one else, because out of everything that's happened, he was always there. He was my father when my real one couldn't be there.

"He made me promise I wouldn't kill Dumbledore, because he believed I could for my father. He **believed** in me. It was a good feeling. Only my mother had ever believed in me. I liked that he trusted me, and I trusted him. I promised I wouldn't harm Dumbledore, but then I was worried what would happen to my father. I expressed as much to Severus, and he gave me the worst news. My father had gone insane in Azkaban, sitting in his dark little cell. The Dementors were still under the Ministry's control then, they turned my father into a blithering mess. He didn't recognise my mother, his wife. He wouldn't recognise me either.

"I let Snape do it. I let him murder Dumbledore."

Draco took deep breaths, his eyes were brimming, but he refused to let anyone see him cry. He was thirsty, but he knew that he would get no drink until he had cleared his name. Across the table Hermione looked at his curiously, she didn't seem angry, or frustrated. She knew that there was more to the story than everyone else knew. He also saw pity in her face, something about him made her feel sorry for him.

"Keep going..." she murmured, and pushed back the impulse to reach across the table for his hand.

"We fled the school, as hard and fast as we could. Snape and I were a disgrace to the Dark Lords name. He had not given Severus permission to kill Dumbledore, and that made us traitors to both sides of the war. But someone else had told Snape to do it.

"Two days before the attack, Snape was called to Dumbledore's office. I regret everything I ever said about the old man, he was a good person, and better than my father had always let on. After thinking about my decision to go with Snape, I realized there was nothing I should've done for my father. Because _he_ was the one that disgraced the family name, not me!

"Dumbledore knew about all of the plans, he had alerted the Order of the Phoenix to be on guard that night. He told Snape that they would capture and kill as many Death Eaters as possible. He also told him where to meet him that night, when to meet him, and that he should tell as many Death Eaters as he could to be there.

"The Headmaster told Snape to kill him, begged him. Said that whatever he found that night, he wouldn't be able to survive. Please, understand this, Dumbledore _wanted_ to die. He believed in your Golden Boy more than he should have. He said he knew that Potter was still a boy, but he was strong and powerful, and had the potential to beat the Dark Lord with a little bit more training.

"So Severus did as he was told, he had always been truly loyal to Dumbledore, no matter what you people said about him. There was never any doubt in either of them who they were truly loyal to. It bothered me, that I didn't know who I was loyal to. I didn't know who to believe. At times, I felt caught between sides, trapped and restricted. Sometimes I hated you. All of you. And wanted to see you die, to see you hurt and in pain. I wanted you to feel terrible and miserable, because its all I had ever been.

"Only sometimes I wanted to join you, I needed to. I hoped every day that someone from your side of the war would ask me to come to them, to welcome me with open arms and never let me make the wrong choices again. It just didn't work like that.

"Snape took me with him when he ran, he couldn't leave me to be disgraced. Not again. Only, on our way out of the school, Potter stupidly tried to attack Snape with one of his own spells. Of course, he didn't know that Severus had created the spell, but if he had, maybe I wouldn't be here right now."

That was it, Draco couldn't talk anymore. His throat was dry and scratchy, his stomach rumbled with hunger and his head was aching. He thumped his head into his arms on the table and tried not to moan in pain. All Hermione was doing was staring at him in disbelief, it annoyed him to no end. Why wasn't she helping him already?

Draco sighed, and in his mind he heard Snape scold him for being impatient.

Finally, Hermione reacted. "Oh my God, we've had it all wrong! Harry said Dumbledore was acting funny that night! Oh dear!" she cried, standing so suddenly the chair went crashing to floor. She paced the length of the kitchen and chewed a thumb nail. "We need to alert every body! We can't just let Professor Snape and you fend for yourselves! Everyone still thinks you criminals!"

Frustrated, Draco raised his head. Finding his voice again he spat, "Who will you tell? No body is going to believe you, because I told you myself! You said it yourself, I'm a traitor! The minute I come out of hiding, I'll be hunted down by either the Dark Lord or the Ministry! Don't be so stupid!"

"Well then why are you here?" Hermione question roughly. "Why come here, tell me all this, only to say you don't want the Ministry's help?"

"I didn't come here for _their_ help, I came here for _your_ help. When Potter hit Severus with that curse, it did more than it was meant to. If you were a smart person, you would know that the person who creates a spell can't get hit by it. Not unless the wizard or witch casting the spell is especially powerful! Don't you get it? The curse your Golden Boy threw had an effect on Severus, and it's much worse than it should've been because Snape created it! He's sick, that's why I came to you."

Draco suddenly felt dizzy, as if he was going to pass out. He had said way too much, way too quickly. He saw black stars along the bottom of his vision, and the world spun.

He slumped in his chair as he blacked out, and Hermione yelped and ran to catch him before he fell to the floor. She managed to slip under him before his head thwacked the ground.

* * *

_Comparing this chapter to the last one, there is a big difference. I hope I didn't bore you with Draco's long and winding story. But he needed to get it out, and when I write, I prefer to be a channel for the character, having them speak through me. Like the dead and them clairvoyants. D _

_I would love reviews! Please? The praise compels me to write... (Ok, only half true, but the reviews look good and give me an extra good ego boost!)_


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